Vain holiday nepenthe, sport’s unbending,
    The Statesman’s burdened brain may not forget. 
  His cares are ceaseless and his toils unending,
    Memories embarrass and forebodings fret. 
  The gun, the golf-club, and the rod avail not
    In his tired heart to make full holiday;
  E’en amidst pastime he must watch, and fail not,
    Approaching ills, the shadows on the way.

  Shadowed!  And not by common gloom, poor Minister! 
    The passing shades that chequer every course. 
  This spectral presence is as stern and sinister
    As atra cura on the rider’s horse. 
  Before, the vision of the helpless peasant! 
    Behind, the famine phantom black and grim! 
  How should the holiday-hour, to all so pleasant,
    Bring gladness true or genuine rest to him?

  Wake!  There is need for provident prevision,
    For watchful eye, and for most wary hand. 
  In mellow Autumn’s interlude Elysian
    The old grim Shadow strikes across the land. 
  May Heaven arrest its course, avert its terror,
    And keep the Statesman who this foe must fight
  From careless blindness and from blundering error,
    Such as of old lent aid to the Black Blight.

* * * * *

“JACK SHEPPARD REVERSED.”

This is the title of an amusing article in last week’s Saturday Review.  It is not the story of JACK SHEPPARD once more done into rhyme.  The title so happily selected is thoroughly justified by the doings of an eccentric and original burglar, who, broke into a prison!  This certainly was JACK SHEPPARD reversed with a vengeance!  The hero of the escapade is said to be a tinted native of Barbadoes—­his portrait should be published as a companion to the “penny plain” of his prototype as “twopence coloured.”

* * * * *

CARDINAL MANNING’S PRECEDENCE.

  It does not need heraldic lore
    The Cardinal’s place to find. 
  Of course he’ll always come before
    The ones who are behind.

* * * * *

THE PHAGOCYTE.

(The Story of a Blood Feud.)

    [A microscopist has found an organism called the Phagocyte in
    the blood, which pursues and devours the Bacilli.]

  Strange the tale that Science tells. 
  Here are some devouring cells: 
  Ever watchful night and day,
  They the vile Bacillus slay;
  Wot we well he fears the bite
  Of the guardian Phagocyte.

  Hour by hour the fight goes on,
  Till the silent battle’s won;
  Vainly do Bacilli shirk
  When their deadly foe’s at work;
  Every microbe faints with fright
  At the fearsome Phagocyte.

  Should the Phagocyte not keep
  Faithful ward, but go to sleep;
  Then Bacillus, in high glee,
  Works his will on you and me;
  Danger would be ours to-night,
  But for that same Phagocyte.